


Seasons Change

by Arianne_Isobel



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bellamy PoV, Canon character deaths, F/M, Homelessness, Mentions of Murder, Mentions of Suicide, One Shot, Past Rape/Non-con, mentions of drug abuse, runaways - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 15:29:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20726495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arianne_Isobel/pseuds/Arianne_Isobel
Summary: He finds her Winter, falls in love in Spring.He loses her in Summer, she stays in Autumn





	Seasons Change

He finds her deep in the winter.

He’s been on the run for months, he cant remember the last time he used his voice, didn’t think he’d need to anymore. There wasn’t anybody to talk to; he wasn’t begging for money and he wasn’t looking for company. He slept when he was tired and kept moving when he was awake. Scavenged for food when he could, shops meant cameras, and cameras meant he could be found.

Someone in a shelter told him about an abandoned group of houses, only half built because the construction company went bust and nobody had bothered to finish them.

It was a squatters paradise.

Fires were lit outside, groups of dirty haired youths huddled around, looking for warmth on the bitter January night. Snow threatened to fall as he made his way into one of the furthest houses. Well, they weren’t so much houses, but shells with half built walls that gave them some privacy. 

That’s where he met a man called John Murphy, though he threatened to kill him if he ever called him John.

It was said in jest, but there was a wildness in his eyes that made Bellamy believe him. 

He didn’t tell him his name, he didn’t need to know.

“I respect it” Murphy said over a can of stolen beer. Bellamy had done much worse than steal cheap alcohol, so he drank too. “You don’t got a lot to say so you don’t say it. People talk too much anyway”

Bellamy smirked, because Murphy was one of these people who spoke too much. He didn’t mind though, the chatter kept him away from his own thoughts. 

It didn’t keep away the nightmares, though.

Murphy doesn’t say anything about them, because he has them too. They’re all there for their own reasons, no one asks. They’ll listen if you want to tell, but its nobody’s business.

In his room are two single mattresses with dirty covers and tattered blankets pushed as far away as possible from each other. Nobody said who the other mattress belongs to, and he doesn’t ask. It looks like its been slept in recently, but no one comes.

In the room next to Murphy is Jasper and Monty, younger than them with a thing for smoking whatever they can get their hands on. They’re loud and energetic, still smiling through the haunted look in their eyes. 

Monty has a thing for Harper, and Bellamy smiles every time Monty clams up when Harper tries to talk to him. 

They’re almost like a family, and this is the longest Bellamy’s every stuck around. He’s worried he’s getting attached, and that would be dangerous.

He’s been there a week when there’s a chatter of excitement, a buzz around him as the first snowfall settles on the ground. He goes out to see what’s going on – surely they’re not all excited over snow, it only made their awful living conditions worse.

But its not the snow that’s got them hyped, it’s a long haired boy and a pretty blonde girl, smiling over trash bags of clothing and food. It’s like Christmas morning, expect its January and none of them had anyone but each other to celebrate with.

“You were gone for ages” Jasper moaned, digging through the trash bag filled with coats.

“Yeah, well we’re here now” The boy smirks, the girl doesn’t though. She’s got a serious look about her, surveying everyone carefully. Her eyes fall on Bellamy and he’s taken aback by her attractiveness, her blonde hair long and messy around her shoulders, her blue eyes sparkling even though there doesn’t seem to be a hint of light. She gives him a flick over, then nudges the long haired boy and jerks her head towards Bellamy. 

He saunters over as the blonde girl watches carefully. “Finn Collins” he sticks his hand out and smiles lazily – cockily, like he owns the place. Maybe he does, maybe he’s the ring leader here. Bellamy doesn’t care though, its not like he plans on sticking around too much longer, he was too comfortable here, entering dangerous territory.

“He don’t talk” Murphy shouted over, Finn dropped his hand and frowned, starting at Bellamy critically. 

“What have you been calling him then?”

“Hey man, usually” Murphy shrugs, its starting to get dark – but it might just be because of how heavy the clouds are. He’s struggling to light a fire.

“Whatever” Finn says with a roll of his eyes “Where’s he sleeping?”

“Room next to mine, in the bed next to Clarkes.”

Finn gave a disgusted look.

“He’s not sleeping in the same room as Clarke” Finn spat “We don’t know anything about him”

“Then swap rooms with Clarke” Murphy shrugged, not caring enough to argue.

“Did you not hear me? We don’t know anything about him”

“Oh chill out” The blonde girl – Clarke – snapped “He’s obviously not murdered anyone” 

Bellamy flinched at her words, he forgot how little they actually knew about him. 

“You’re just causing a fuss so I’ll come sleep with you” Clarke continued with a roll of her eyes. Finn glared and stalked off out of sight. There was a story there, he was certain of it – he just didn’t care enough to ask. 

He should have known Murphy would tell him anyway, later that night around the fire. Finn and Clarke looked deep in conversation about something that almost looked like an argument. He was embarrassed to be caught staring. 

“He’s in love with her” Murphy told him nonchalantly “he doesn’t even try and hide it. He found her when she first ran away, they found this place together, we came along later. Funny thing is they seemed like they were a thing when I got here, then something happened and she didn’t seem to give a shit about him anymore. They get along, but she doesn’t care about him, not like he does her.”

Bellamy doesn’t really know what to do with that information, but he keeps it stored away, because there’s something about this Finn that he doesn’t like. There’s a possessiveness about him, he looks at Bellamy like he’d kill him if he looked at Clarke too long. 

It’s well past midnight when Clarke collapses onto her mattress. He’s been in there hours, not asleep, jus staring out the hole that should have been a window. The nights clearing up, the clouds moving fast with the icy winds, making way for the inky sky and smattering of silver stars. Clarke throws him a blanket, its thick and well made, nothing like he’s slept with yet.

She doesn’t say anything as she cocoons herself into her own blanket. Their mattresses are just feet away from each other, too close for his own comfort, but he’s learnt to accept the cards he’s dealt. 

She falls asleep quickly, and he’s envious. Sleep never came easy for him, so he watched her with a gentle fascination. She looked softer when she was asleep, less troubled and serious. He guessed she was no older than eighteen, maybe a bit younger. But still scarred from whatever life had thrown at her. 

For the first time since he got here, he wanted to know someone’s story.

He fell asleep as dawn illuminated her golden hair, sending it a soft shade of pink.

Red sky at morning – sailors take warning.

*

The weather takes a turn for the worst, Bellamy’s worried he’s getting frost bite on his fingers. He’s rubbing his hands together over the fire, hoping to thaw them out when Clarke brings him a pair of gloves, soft and thick.

She doesn’t say much either, but everyone seems to go to her. She and Finn go away a lot, always coming back with food or blankets, whatever is needed, they find it. No one questions where it comes from, they just take it gratefully. 

She starts sitting closer to him around the fire now, a bit further away from Finn. 

Everybody went to her with their problems, and she tried her best to solve them. He wondered who she went to with her problems. 

He catches her eye over the fire, and she gives him a small, sad smile. He cant seem to return it. 

On the night of the worst snow, he cant even look out the window because Clarke boarded it up. Not that he’s complaining, it made the room considerably warmer. Not that the concrete box could ever be considered warm, but it takes the icy chill away. He falls asleep earlier than usual, lulled into it by Clarkes steady breathing.

That’s when he has the worst nightmares. 

His mothers body hanging limp and lifeless from the ceiling. The smattering of blood on his face when he pulled the trigger. His sisters screams – 

He doesn’t realise he’s screaming too until Clarke lies next to him, taking his face in her hands and wiping away his tears.

“Shh shh, its okay I’m here” She soothed, pressing her forehead to his. “I get nightmares too” her voice is calm and soothing, her hands are surprisingly soft. He takes a shaky breath and she wraps her arms around his shoulders. He clings to her too, because he cant remember the last time someone touched him, let alone held him like this. She buries her head in his neck, and he’ll fall back to sleep like that; the howling wind singing him to a happier place.

“Thank you” his voice is too deep and gravelly, his throat protests as he’s used his voice too much now, but Clarke deserves to hear it. 

*

He falls in love with her in spring. 

He wasn’t supposed to stay this long, but she moved her mattress next to his and falls asleep holding his hand, rubbing soothing patterns on his chapped skin. 

It’s still cold, but the grey clouds passed over to white fluffy ones, scarcely littered in the blue sky. 

She wakes up in the middle of the night gasping and clutching her throat, when he tries to calm her down she pushes him away with more force than her little body should be able to carry.

He doesn’t ask what happened to her, just holds her when she comes around and remembers where she is. 

Finns possessiveness concerns him. He acts as though he has a hold on her because he found her when she had no where else left to go. Bellamy puts his arm around her when ever Finns around, he can be possessive, too. But Clarke doesn’t seem to mind when its him, she leans into him, her breath shallow and shaky as he hand slips from her shoulder to her waist, blurring the lines.

That night in bed, he lays flush against her back, his hand creeping from the safety of her hip under her shirt. She pushes against him as he grips her tightly, a primal need neither of them knew they had taking over. Their clothes are completely disregarded in the corner of the room, he pushes into her when she moans his name, quiet enough so only he hears. Every little gasp and moan sends shivers down his spine.

He liked to believe he’d only ever talk to her, but Murphy drags him in, talking about football teams they’d never get to see. They talk about Monty and Harper, planning to lock them in a room together and see if they die from the awkwardness or fuck. 

They don’t talk about what brought them here, though.

As the weather changes, more kids come. All of them the same, runaways with a haunted look and a chip on their shoulder. 

Clarke worries there’s too many of them now, as they lay on the single mattress, the other one was given up to accommodate their growing numbers. She says if too many people come they’ll draw too much attention and the police will come and move them on.

That’s not all she’s scared of, Bellamy can see it written on her face every time someone knew comes. The fear of being recognised. It’s the same look on his own face.

The groups bigger now. Clarke sits a little closer to him, clings to his arm a little more. He sort of understands Finns possessiveness, because he feels it too. Whenever eyes linger on her too long, when a newbie asks where she’s sleeping. She never answers, just lets Bellamy glare until they go away.

She’s a different person alone. She smiles a little more freely, kisses him softly under the moonlight after everyone has gone to bed. She lets her nails grow a little longer and traces patterns into the skin on his arms. He wished he could make them stay forever. 

She tells him she was going to be an artist. Her mother wanted her to be a doctor but she had other plans. He could see it, too – her covered in paint splatters standing in front of a masterpiece almost as beautiful as her. 

He tells her about his love of history. The books his mother used to read him as a child. He doesn’t tell her about Octavia, not yet. It’s still too personal, too raw.

In March she goes off with Finn for two days, and Bellamy knows he’s being unbearable. He’s moody and snaps at anyone who comes by him. Murphy tries to reassure him, but he wont listen, just sulks until she comes home, solemn and depressed.

She doesn’t hang around when she dumps the trash bags on the floor, she stalks past him to their room and lies down on the mattress without saying a word. Bellamy has a million questions, but he doesn’t ask them. Instead he holds her until she falls asleep, well past the moons highest point, and lets her pull him on top of her in the morning, calmly reminding himself that he doesn’t own her – but she comes back to him anyway.

Finn crosses a line a week later, telling Clarke they had to leave again. He doesn’t think Bellamy’s around, but he and Murphy can hear everything.

“There’s too many people here, I can keep you safe” He pleads with her. Bellamy can’t see them, but he knows the exact look on her face – her teeth sink into her lip, eyes cast downward. 

“I don’t want to leave with you” She tells him quietly, voice sad but determined. “It’s bad enough we have to go get supplies together and that’s only a couple of days”

“I bet you’d go with him” Finn spat. Bellamy knew he was talking about him, it made his stomach turn.

“It has nothing to do with you” Clarke argued, there was a shuffle, the sounds of feet moving and Clarkes panicked shouts “Get off me”

Bellamy didn’t even think, just rounded the corner and grabbed Fin by the collar. His hand loosed from Clarkes wrist as he was slammed into the wall, head bouncing off the concrete. 

“Don’t touch her” Bellamy warned, voice low and dangerous. “Don’t look at her, don’t come by her. If you so much as breath in her direction I’ll kill you”

Finn pushed him away and stalked off, rubbing the back of his head. He looked to Clarke, expecting her to freeze him out, but she threw her arms around his neck and clung to him as tightly as she could. 

The police came in April. 

Four of them, moving everyone along. Clarke was right – too many people had drawn too much attention. 

Bellamy would have been angry, if he wasn’t so scared.

He looked to Clarke, the same fear mirrored in her eyes. Not a fear of where they would go next, a fear of being recognised. 

So they ran, both had too much to lose. What little possessions they owned were left behind, there was nothing as valuable as their lives; so they left hand in hand. Running until their lungs were screaming, then they ran some more. 

The dark night kept them invisible, the heavy rain meant no one was stupid enough to be out. He pulled her into an alleyway and kissed her senseless, adrenaline still running high. It didn’t matter that the only things they owned were the clothes on their back, soaked through and dripping between them. It didn’t matter they had no place to go – sure, them houses would probably be safe to go back to in a week, but the police knew they were being lived in, what was stopping them from coming back?

They had each other, and that was all that mattered in that moment.

*

He loses her in the summer.

They walk as far as their legs can take them in the harsh April rain, they get on trains at stations in the middle of no where, always the last train, then get off before the inspector catches them.

They become reckless, drunk off love. Bellamy couldn’t remember the last time he knew where he was, town names passed him by, unimportant. The only important thing is tucked into his side, asleep in a doorway in a sleepy town.

They don’t stop moving, don’t see the need to until they step off a train and hear waves crashing and gulls screaming.

Bellamy’s never been to the beach. He stops and stares in wonder, he never thought the sea would be this close. Clarke tells him its because the tides in, something to do with the moons pull but it doesn’t matter. The airs cleaner than anywhere they’ve been and its busy, even late at night there’s bright lights and a funfair, teenagers hanging off railings overlooking the sea, parents looking flustered as children inhaled cotton candy. 

Bellamy felt like this could be home. 

They slept under the stars, keeping each other warm was easier now the weather had begun to turn. 

It seems easier here, food is not so hard to come by, there’s shop doorways to sleep in as long as they’re gone before the owner comes to open up. There’s more people like them, a bit older, and a bit reserved, but Bellamy and Clarke have learnt not to get attached.

A man named Pike offers Bellamy a job, cash in hand. He’s in no position to turn it down, so he accepts before he even knows what he’s doing. 

He never saw himself working in construction, but here he is. His long term plan was to go to college, get his PhD and teach history, maybe write too so his name could be taught one day along with the greats.

With his first lot of cash, he buy Clarke a massive sketch book and some pens. She sits on the boardwalk drawing caricatures. She’s good, Bellamy knew she would be. Word travels fast about the pretty artist, and soon she’s buying more sketch books, coloured pens and at the end of the week they sit under their doorway and count the notes.

She laughs for the first time and the sun envies her radiance. He laughs with her, she’s beautiful and carefree and so damn happy. She leans forward and kisses him, smiling into his mouth and giggling. They have no idea what the hell they’re supposed to do with money when they’ve spent so long stealing warmth and sleeping rough.

Pike takes on people like him, people with nothing to call their own. He says he’s teaching them valuable skills and they work ten times harder than anyone else he’s ever met. It’s through him he meets Miller, a petty thief with a mean glare and a soft spot for pretty boys. He tells him about a woman called Diyoza, who was willing to rent out her spare bedroom and she didn’t really care who it was to, as long as they could pay on time each month.

It wasn’t much, a tiny room with an old wardrobe and mismatched chest of drawers, a creaky queen sized bed and a leaky shower in the en suit. It was the best thing they’d ever had.

They tucked themselves under the covers the first night and grinned ear to ear. It was the warmest and comfiest they’d been in a long time. It was first time they were actually clean since god knows when, their old ragged clothes had been thrown away for cheap but clean clothes. Finally, finally it was all coming together, and if this was how he spent the rest of his life he could die a happy man. 

They lay in bed a month after, Bellamy finally got the courage to ask her what she was running from. He saw the fear in her eyes when people got too close. Sometimes a stranger would catch her eye and she’d get that same look she got when the police came to move them on, the look that told him she was about to run.

“I was too young to be at that party” She told him, tears in her ocean blue eyes “I was too young to be drinking, I didn’t know what I was doing, but he knew that. He took me back to his apartment, I tried saying no, I tried to fight him off but I was too drunk, and he was bigger than me. I was powerless” 

He wiped a tear from her cheek, and she leant into his touch. He was overwhelmed by his anger, he hadn’t felt like this since his sister came home, battered within an inch of her life. It made him murderous.

“I waited until he was asleep and doused the bed in cheap vodka he had in the kitchen and set it on fire”

Bellamy had chose not to speak for a long time, but this was the first time he was speechless. 

“He survived, he just wishes he hadn’t. He’s still out there, looking for me”

He pulled her to his chest, lets her cry into his shirt and made a silent vow to protect her with everything he had. He couldn’t give her much, but he could try and save her.

He waited until she’d calmed down, lay half asleep on his on his chest when he said “My mother hung herself, she lost her job, got in some trouble with money and had people after her, demanding payments she couldn’t keep up with. A week after the funeral they came to me, but I didn’t have shit to my name. They beat my little sister up the next day. She came home nearly dead, so I shot them in the face”

She didn’t say anything, she didn’t have to. Her fingertips danced patterns over his bare arm and she pressed a kiss to his chest. He held her a little closer, she should have ran screaming, but instead she was comforting him, hearing him out.

“My sister never forgave me. She said I didn’t have to murder them, we could have found the money. It wasn’t about the money though, it was about protecting her. My sister, my responsibility”

She moved to press her lips to his, murmuring “if it’s forgiveness you need ill give it to you. You’re forgiven”

There was a warm feeling in his chest that might be what coming home feels like.

The days were longer and hotter, Clarkes skin turned golden, his own darkening, his freckles more prominent. He’d gained some of his muscle he’d lost from malnutrition, Clarkes cheeks were no longer sunken, she didn’t look gaunt and on the edge of death,. Her eyes had a twinkle as she laughed with him, hand in hand across the beach – ice cream dripping down their fingers.

“Bellamy Blake?”

His blood ran cold, and he got that sinking feeling that he’d got too comfortable here, he should have kept moving – not playing house. He turned slowly, to be faced with Raven Reyes, still as beautiful as ever, eyebrow arched curiously as she gave him a critical once over.

“Where the hell have you been?” She demanded, striding forward to hug him. Clarkes hand dropped from his, her face closing off from emotion, looking like the girl he’d met eight months ago.

“Here and there” Bellamy said cryptically “What are you doing here?”

“My old boss Sinclair retired here, then brought a garage to fix up classic cars” She scoffed “I’ve come to help him out for a bit. Listen I’ve got to go but we need to have a serious catch up. Wicks here too, meet us at Vera’s at 7? I’ll beat you up if you don’t come” She said with a small smirk, only half joking.

“I don’t know – ” Bellamy stared, but he should have learnt long ago that you did not say no to Raven Reyes. 

“Bellamy” She huffed, exasperated “Nobody gives a shit what you did”

Bellamy just stared at he started to walk away, throwing her hair over her shoulder “Vera’s, seven tonight” she called back to him, and how could he say no?

“Absolutely not” Clarke snapped, still in her denim shorts and tank top from earlier in the day, arms crossed over her chest as she stood in the middle of their room. “You go, but I’m not having anything to do with it”

“Clarke please” he sighed, taking a step towards her. Their room was tiny, two steps and he’d be on top of her. “It’ll be fine, it is fine. Maybe this is how we get back to normal”

“We were never normal” She spat back at him, he flinched, because she was right. Their normal were two different things entirely. He didn’t even know what her normal was. It hit him that he really didn’t know that much about her.

“I wont let anything happen to you. I swear it” he closed the gap, taking her shoulders in his hands. “I’ll protect you with my life. But I need answers, and I cant do it without you”

She agreed, reluctantly. They were late meeting Raven, who was sat in a booth with a messy haired man he vaguely remembered following Raven around like a lost puppy. 

Clarke clung to his hand and stared at Raven suspiciously. 

Raven paid no attention and filled him in on things he didn’t want to know about. He didn’t care about small town gossip, wasn’t interested in chit chat, so he interrupted her mid sentence and said “How’s Octavia?”

He could feel Clarkes eyes on him, but he couldn’t take his off Raven, watching her face carefully. She gave him a small smile, uncharacteristically soft “She fine – great, actually. She’s engaged, got herself a good house, a good job, still shares your picture on social media once a month, in case anyone’s seen you”

Bellamy blanches, how could she do that, surely the police had figured out it was him, he had motive – the perfect motive. 

“Nobody cares” She reminds him “About what you did. The police sort of brushed it under the carpet. You did them a favour actually, they were causing too much trouble, ran the town for too long. Octavia would love to see you”

It was the right thing to say, because Bellamy could never deny his sister anything. She’d told him to leave and he did. She wanted him to come back and he would.

Clarke waited until he fell asleep that night before she started packing. He woke to her shoving her few possessions into a backpack.

His heart was pounding agains his chest, he stomach in knots. His vision blurred in panic.

“What are you doing?” He demanded as she ripped a blank page from her sketch book and folded it up.

“Go home Bellamy” she was cold and mechanical, finding clothes from the wardrobe and drawers and shoving them into her backpack.

“Not without you”

“It’s not my home” She scoffed “You have a sister who needs you, your responsibility” She reminded him sternly.

“It could be your home” He pleaded “If you’d just stop packing and listen” he was shouting by the end, but she payed no attention. “Clarke please you cant leave me”

“I’m not leaving you” She took her stash of cash, counting it quickly “You’re going home, I’m moving on”

He pushed the covers off of him and pulled the clothes out her bag, throwing them across the floor. “You are leaving. I never said I was going anywhere, not without you”

“You didn’t have to” She calmly picked her clothes up, refolding them “I saw your face when Raven told you your sister wanted to see you, there’s not an army that could keep you away”

He’d underestimated her. She was too perceptive, he’d tried to keep his cards close to his chest, but Clarke had got closer. “Please don’t do this, I love you”

“Then let me go” She snapped, zipping up her backpack. “You have a family you have to get back to” She was cold and impulsive, desperately hurting and fighting to leave, no matter the consequences. She was the girl who set her rapist on fire. “Pack your stuff and go. That’s what I’m doing”

Her backpack was thrown over her shoulder, and she was gone. A flash of her blonde braid was the last thing he saw after she slammed the door.

His chest was closing in on him, his brain wouldn’t tell his legs to move and chase after her. He was stuck to the spot for far too long. By the time he’d got to the street she was long gone. He crawled back to their room – his room. His legs no longer strong enough to carry him. He packs in a daze, his only thoughts of finding her. 

Her sketch book falls on the floor, and gone are the caricatures he’s used to, the portrait could have been a photograph. He was smiling, bigger than he’d ever seen in the mirror. Every freckle and scar perfectly sketched out. This was how she saw him, happy and beautiful, she’d studied his face in so much detail his heart ached. She loved him too.

She wasn’t leaving him, she was trying to set him free. 

How could he be free without her though?

He left a note for Diyoza and ran for the last train out of here, not buying a ticket because why would he? He’d come this far, and he needed to save what little cash he had left. 

There was desperation as he searched, cursing himself for getting too caught up to remember the journey they took here. He didn’t have a clue how to get back to where they met, so he roamed towns aimlessly, asking rough sleepers if they’d seen her, heard about her, anything. He didn’t have a photo of, and how desperately he wished he did. not just for searching, but just to see her once more, knowing he may never see her again.

*

She stays in Autumn.

The air took a chill and the leaves started to change.

He stopped paying attention to names of towns and cities, they were unimportant unless they held Clarke in their grasp.

He kept the picture she drew in his pocket at all times, the only thing he had left of her now.

He’s in a city that seems post apocalyptic, half the shops abandoned like the houses they slept in when they first met, the shops that were still open were barely surviving, half the city was homeless, the other half were business men, running on caffeine and cigarettes, dead behind the eyes. 

A man with dark eyes and fingerless gloves looked at him critically.

“Yeah I know her” He told Bellamy passively “She’s under a doorway on Mount Weather. Don’t ask me which one cause I don’t know”

He finds her shaking, eyes glassy and unfocused. Half conscious and half tucked into a sleeping bag. Her hairs shorter, hacked off crudely with streaks of red. Any weight she’d gained has disappeared dramatically.

“What did you take?” He demands, shaking her shoulders a little, then immediately loathes himself for it.

“You were gone” is all she responds.

“Not without you”

He holds her as she falls asleep shaking. Tries to coax water down her, but her body rejects it. So he waits it out with her, he considers making her sick, but she’s so weak she’d probably just choke on it.

On the second day, he asks where she got it, he’s tucked himself into the sleeping bag with her, its tight and a bit uncomfortable but its keeping them both warm, even if Clarke still shivers violently. 

“Finn”

His hold tightens around her waist and he swears he’d do unspeakable things if she wasn’t grounding him.

“Where’s Finn now?”

“Dead”

It’s three days before her body accepts more than a sip of water, a week before she even resembles being well again. He doesn’t ask what happened and she doesn’t tell him. Maybe someday but right now it doesn’t matter, they’re still here together.

He thinks of the first night he had a nightmare when she was there, how she didn’t even hesitate to get into bed with him and comfort him. It was his turn to comfort her now.

They stay in that doorway, Bellamy going to find food that Clarke can’t eat, just sleeps until she regains her strength. 

When Bellamy finally has enough of that damn doorway, he takes them to a coffee shop, not too far away, Clarkes legs were weak and she’s fragile looking, but no one gave her a second glance. Most of the people around here looked like her. It breaks his heart after what they had that summer. 

They’re silent as they sip their coffee, Clarkes voice is raspy and weak, she’s barely said anything since he found her.

“You should have gone home” She finally whispers, eyes hollow and sad Purple bruises from exhaustion under them. She was still the most beautiful girl he’d ever known.

“How could I leave you?”

She didn’t respond, only stared into the steam of her coffee. He considers what to do next, he’s not staying here, its bleak and reeks of death for people like them. Although the animosity is nice, they’ll end up like Finn. The roads are littered with used needles and grey overdosed bodies that funeral homes are too full to take away. 

“Come home with me”

She looks up sharply, her eyes cold and critical. “You don’t want me to come home with you”

Even after all this time, she doubts his love. She doesn’t know he’s never loved before, not entirely with his heart instead of convenience. Does he know how long he searched for her? Does he know how empty he feels when she’s not in arms reach?

“I don’t want to be anywhere you’re not”

Her eyes shine with tears, bright and blue and unshed. He gripped her hand from across the table, warmed from the coffee, still freezing at the tips. He’d die without her.

“Bellamy! Clarke!” 

They both turned in shock, to see Murphy sauntering towards them, looking better than he ever had before. He was shaven and clean, his clothes new looking and smart, almost like the business men who ignore their presence. 

“Murphy” Bellamy shook his hand, Clarke nodded once.

“You look good” Murphy said to Bellamy, dragging a chair loudly to sit at their table. “You look like shit” He said to Clarke, Bellamy wanted to jump over the table and rip his throat out, but Clarke squeezed his hand a little tighter.

“How did you of all people end up as a suit?” Clarke asked coyly, a small smirk on her lips. It was the first time resemblance of a smile since he’d got back.

“A lot happened since the police raided our home” He told them, a hint of sadness in his voice. “Jasper died. Maya – his girlfriend – died, we don’t know how, but Jasper killed himself after that. Monty was devastated and used it to actually get his shit together. He makes fake identities now. I’m still John Murphy, but I’ve got a bank account, a job, a girlfriend, an apartment, I’ve got a life.”

Bellamy couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm, could they do it? If Raven was right about the police not caring about what he’d done, it would just be Clarke. They could go back to the beach, she could be an artist, he could go back to pike, hell he’d clean toilets if it meant he got to be with her. 

He looked to Clarke, her call more than his. She was looking over Murphy curiously and he thought that this could be a possibility, he could give her the life they deserved, after all this time they could maybe be happy.

In true Murphy style, he didn’t hang around, but he gave them Monty’s address and went back to his dull nine to five job that made him so happy. 

That was the time he’d ever see him again, and Bellamy was comforted that it was a happy memory. 

He fell asleep that night thinking of a new life, not looking over their shoulder, having a legit job, an apartment. He’d be giddy if he wasn’t already so tainted by life’s disappointments.

Clarke agreed a week later, and he used the money he’d saved to get them a train back home. She didn’t say anything, but he could see the anxiety and fear in his eyes. There was no words of comfort he could give her, because he didn’t know if it would be alright, so he assured her he’d take of her. 

He gets a sinking feeling that this town is not his home anymore. It’s bleak as people whisper and point at him in the street, remembering the man who killed the men who dared touch his sister. 

He hopes it made her untouchable. 

There’s no short cut to his old home, he doesn’t even know if Octavia’s still there, but it’s a start. So they walk through the town, still busy and he gripped Clarkes hand for reassurance. She smiled and leant her head on his arm as they walked. It gave him more comfort than her words ever could.

A woman, tall thin and sharp catches his arm and stares at him like he’s a ghost. Maybe he is to them.

“Bellamy?” The words barely make it past Echos lips, but he hears them anyway. He has no response for the woman he left behind with no note, no explanation, no reason why he left in the middle of the night. She probably had to hear it off everybody else.

So he just nods and she pulls him into a hug, breathing “I thought I’d never see you again, I thought you were dead”

He wonders how much has changed for her since he’s been gone, almost a year now. So much has changed for him, he felt guilty that he’d barely given her a second thought. 

Clarkes eyes flicker between them, bright and sharp and oh so untrusting. He can only imagine this was her fear all along, him coming back and falling back into his old life without her. 

“What happened? Are you alright?” She hadn’t noticed Clarke standing beside him, and it was probably a cruel way to break it to her, but he let go of Clarkes hand wound his arm around her waist instead, pulling her close like a safety blanket. “Oh” Echo noticed Clarke then, really noticed her.

“I’m sorry” was all Bellamy could say, she deserved an explanation but it was too long of a story to stand on the street telling and the autumn chill was getting to them. “I’ll explain another day, I promise. But I need to find my sister”

Echo just nodded, slightly dumbstruck “She still lives in your old house, she’s getting married to Lincoln Woods of all people”

Bellamy frowned but nodded his thanks and pulled Clarke along. She didn’t ask, the same way he doesn’t ask about Finn. She knew it was a different lifetime. 

His old house looks the so much the same, yet so different. Nothing dramatics been changed, a lot of the fixtures are the same, even the colours on the outside are the same, just repainted and fresher looking. But the house just looks so much warmer, loved and lived in. There’s a vase of flowers in the window, a welcome mat outside the porch and a proper, looked after garden next to the drive. Two cars are parked, which is good – he didn’t even consider what day it may be, didn’t consider she might be at work or with friends.

Across the street curtains twitch and Bellamy knows its now or never. Clarke squeezes his hand and gives him a reassuring smile.

He wasn’t sure what kind of reaction he was expecting when Octavia opened the door, he didn’t expect the string of curse words to come out her mouth. Bellamy stared in shock while Clarke smirked. Baby sister she was no longer. 

She finally pulled him into a hug, sobbing into his coat before dragging them both inside. Her and Lincoln had completely redecorated, and it no longer looked like his childhood home. It looked happy and warm, a place they’d always dreamed of growing up. He was proud, if not sad that he’d missed it all.

She sat with Lincoln on the loveseat while Bellamy sat with Clarke tucked into his side on the sofa. He tried to fill her in on as much as possible without scaring her – after all this time he was still trying to protect her. So he missed out the parts where he stole food, broke into peoples houses and had fist fights on the street before he’d found Clarke. He didn’t tell her about losing Clarke or her drug overdose, it was too personal, still too raw to think about. 

Octavia told him about her search for him, but he’d gone off the grid. Lincoln had been an officer in his case, he was the one who convinced the detectives to drop the case since all Bellamy had really done was get a menace gang off the streets. She told him of their friends getting engaged and having babies, some moved away, some stayed. All still asked about him. She told him of her own engagement, and as much as he wanted to protest and tell her she was too young, she hadn’t even known the guy a year, he’d been there when Bellamy hadn’t. He’d provided comfort and safety when Bellamy had been running from his demons. 

“Will you stay?” Octavia asked quietly, tears brimming in her dark eyes, and Bellamy was powerless to deny her.

“Of course” 

Clarke stiffened next to him, he gave her a gentle squeeze of reassurance. 

They lay in his childhood bedroom, exactly how he’d left it – blue walls littered with posters of rock bands he used to love. She looked so out of place lay under the plain covers he bought just before his mothers death. He realised that he was out of place here too, no longer that boy, he was a man who had been tainted by life, rough and hardened by the world he’d ran to. 

“You’re okay” She assured him quietly, pushing his too long hair out his eyes. 

He didn’t know if he was though. Octavia had done fine without him, great actually. She’d missed him, but she’d done better on her own than she had with him bringing her down. 

He pressed a kiss to Clarkes mouth, gripping her hips and drawing her closer. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back, smiling into his mouth.

“I love you” he told her, unashamed with no expectations, she was here with him, that’s all that mattered.

“I love you too” 

He’d expected her to pull away, to shy away from him but she was smiling brilliantly at him, arms still tight around his neck. She leant forward to press her forehead to his. His chest tightened and tears sprang to his eyes, love had made him soft.

“Don’t leave me again” He pleaded, and her eyes saddened. “I couldn’t handle it, I couldn’t cope finding you half dead again.”

A tear escaped down her cheek, he wiped it away with his thumb. “I thought you’d come home, restart your life”

“I don’t want a life without you”

She buried her head in his chest, he held her there until she fell asleep, fingers running through her soft hair. He longed to be back at the beach, in their tiny room filled with laughter, where no one caught his eye and quickly looked away.

Octavia made breakfast the next day, humming happily in the kitchen while Bellamy and Clarke sat on the sofa.

“You need a haircut” Clarke told him, brushing his curls out his face.

“Yeah?” He smirked, taking of uneven lock of her hair in his fingers “You’ll have to recommend whoever did your hair”

She shoved his shoulder but laughed anyway “Shut up”

“No I’m serious, did they did a great job”

“I cut it myself” She rolled her eyes, and he pulled her in to kiss her head. 

“No shit”

Past her, Octavia was staring at them from the doorway with a strange expression he couldn’t quite make out.

He tried to get back to normal, but something in the pit of his stomach told him the old normal was dead. A week after coming back, he got the nerve to take Clarke to town.

Nothing had changed, it was still the dead end place he grew up. Only people stared in the streets now, pulled their children in a little closer when he walked by, crossed the street to avoid him. He may have done them a favour by killing a gang who was running the town, but he was still the boy who shot three men in the face to protect his sister. For all they knew, he’d do it again.

Clarke ignored the stares, holding his hand tightly as he led them down the high street. She jerked her head towards a deserted shop doorway and said “We could sleep there”

He laughed out loud, throwing an arm around her shoulder and pulling her in tight. 

“You don’t want to get too close to him sweetheart” Someone called at her, she stiffened in response, looking wearily at Bellamy.

Bellamy was seeing red. He turned, faced with a man who’s name he couldn’t remember.

“Don’t talk to her” he snarled, grip tightening on Clarkes shoulder “Don’t even look at her”

The man put his hands up in surrender “Just saying, she might not want to get too close to a murderer”

Bellamy seethed, but Clarke didn’t seem to let it get to her. She shrugged his hand off and strode over to the heckler, talking quietly, still eerily calm. The mans eyes widened as he took a step back. Clarke turned back to Bellamy, a small, satisfied smile on her face.

“Don’t worry” She murmured “No one will care if you’re a murderer if they think your girlfriends a psychopath”

He was still unsettled though, and unbelievably restless. Considering he’d made his home in a room of a half built house and deserted doorways, he couldn’t seem to settle in the one place that was supposed to make him stay. 

“I think we should go back” He whispered in the dead of night, hand resting on her bare back.

“Is that what you want?” She stared up to where he sat against the bed frame.

“I felt more at home by the sea than I do here. Octavia doesn’t need me anymore, she was probably doing better for herself before I turned back up. I’ll go back to Pike, you can find a job until the summer – we’ll do it this time. No running, no going backwards, just you and me like it was before”

She smiled softly and sat up, pulling the covers around her and tucking herself into his side. “We’ll be happy” She promised him “I’ll be happy whoever you decide to settle”

So they said a bittersweet goodbye to Octavia, and promised to write when they settled down.

Their belongings still fit in a backpack, and they had enough money to get a train back. Pike takes him back despite leaving without a word. There’s plenty of work over the winter, businesses getting ready for peak season. Clarke gets a job in a café, nobody questions her, and she still draws in her spare time. 

They get a poky apartment with leaky taps and noisy neighbours. Clarke covers the beige walls with sketches of the beach, Bellamy’s childhood home, places he’s never seen – but she tells him stories about them – the places she grew up, the lake her father taught her to swim in, a quiet cobbled street.

He keeps the picture she drew of him close, she doesn’t know he has it, but when she’s not there he looks at it, faded around the edges now, the pencil smudged slightly but its still perfect.

He watches her sleep, blankets pulled up high as the autumn chill quickly turns to winter. 

He’ll stay with her until the end of time, and so will she.


End file.
